


A Father's Love

by Innwich



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e07 Bad Boys, Horror, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innwich/pseuds/Innwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a reason why John became a distant father after the fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Father's Love

When Dean woke up in the middle of the night to pee, he tiptoed out of the room he shared with Sam, and found the kitchen’s lights switched on.

John was sitting at the kitchen table and writing on a book and not sleeping, despite having driven for the whole day. John did this a lot, like cutting out newspapers articles, reading thick dusty books borrowed from the local library, and cleaning the guns, when he should be sleeping.

So, after peeing in the toilet, Dean passed by the kitchen and decided to ask, “What are you doing up so late, Dad?”

“I’m writing down notes for you to read when you’re older,” John said. “Do you want to see them?”

“Yeah.” Dean brightened. He stood on tip toes to look at the leather-bound book. All he could make out were black markings scrawled across the lined pages. Dean might not be able to read and finish an entire book by himself, but he knew a lot more words than he did a year ago. If Dean crawled onto John’s lap, he knew he would be able to read what the words were saying. He didn’t do it, because John didn’t like it when Dean climb on him.

John never hugged Dean anymore, like he used to before Mary died.

“Remember the monsters I told you about?”

“I remember,” Dean said. John always came back from his hunting trips with stories about the things that hurt people. He taught Dean about the monsters that lurked in the night, even if he wouldn’t let Dean tell Sam about any of it. Dean didn’t mind. Sam was a baby; it wasn’t like he would understand anyway.

“One day you’ll become a hunter, and you’ll hunt those monsters yourself.”

“I will hunt like you?” Dean said with wide eyes.

“Sure you will.” John smiled tiredly. “Go back to bed, Dean. I’ll stand watch for the night.”

Dean had a good night’s sleep. He didn’t dream of fire.

\- - -

Dean hadn’t heard from John for two weeks, so it was a nasty shock when John burst through the motel room door. “Start packing, Dean. Pack you duffel bag and Sammy’s stuff. I’ll wait for you by the Impala.”

“What happened?” Dean said, staring up from his homework. Sam gurgled from the floor where he was crawling.

“People are coming.”

“Who?”

“People that are going to take you away,” John said. “We have to go. Now.”

Dean didn’t move. “But there is gonna be a school picnic next week.”

John slammed a fist on the door. “Will you just listen to me, dammit?”

Sam burst into tears at the loud voices.

Dean tried hard not to cry too. He wasn’t a baby like Sam. “You’re scaring Sammy.”

John crouched down to Dean’s eye level. “I’m sorry, Dean, but there are bad people out there in the world. I won’t ever let them get their hands on you.”

“What bad people?”

“Child services. Abusive assholes in foster homes and orphanages. Pedophiles. Rapists. Murderers. They’re everywhere,” John muttered lowly, like he was talking to himself instead of Dean. His eyes were unfocused, even though his face was just inches from Dean’s. “I need to teach you boys how to fight. I don’t trust any of them.”

Dean didn’t know what most of that meant, and John’s eyes were starting to scare him. He responded to the only bit he understood, “I trust you.”

At that, John’s gaze snapped back to focus on Dean, like he was noticing him there for the first time. John blinked.

“Dad?”

“Come on,” John said calmly and straightened up, like his outburst hadn’t happened at all. He patted Dean on the head. It was the slightest hint of touch, but Dean leaned into it. It wasn’t often that John was affectionate. John hated the touchy feely crap. “I’ll get the car started. Go get Sammy.”

Dean didn’t question why John didn’t help. He stuffed Sam’s bottles and toys and few clothes into his duffel bag.

“We’ve got to go, Sammy,” Dean said.

Sam looked at Dean mournfully, his round eyes still shining with tears, and stretched out his arms to Dean. Sam knew how to walk, but he was a big baby that wanted to be carried. Dean couldn’t carry Sam for more than a few minutes before his arms got really sore. Nevertheless, Dean sighed, and scooped Sam up into his arms, heaving the duffel bag onto his shoulder.

John never helped him with Sammy.

\- - -

There was someone moving in the living room.

Dean clutched the knife under his pillow. Sam was sleeping on the other bed, and Dean had to keep Sammy safe. Dean slipped out of the bedroom door, carefully not to let the door creak, and he hit the switch on the living room, flooding it with light.

John was standing in the center of the room. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“When did you get back, Dad?” Dean said, lowering his knife, his heart thumping. He didn’t know why John was moving around in the room without light. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I just got back,” John said. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You said you’d be back last week,” Dean said. He couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of his voice. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get back earlier,” John said with a sad look in his eyes. “I tried so hard to come back to you boys.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Dean said. He could feel the energy draining out of him along as the adrenaline faded. He wasn’t angry; mostly he was just tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of being hungry. Tired of being scared. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

\- - -

John always dropped them off at Bobby’s house.

Dean didn’t know why John and Bobby were friends. He’d never seen them do anything together. But Bobby was happy to look after him and Sam, and they got regular meals at Bobby’s, so Dean wasn’t too against the arrangement. He knew John would always come back for them.

Bobby might be nice, but it wasn’t the same thing as being with John.

Bobby hugged Dean tightly as the Impala rumbled into the Savage Yard and the headlights shone squarely on the windows. Sam knew the drill and had gone tot their bedroom to get their bags.

“Promise you’ll call if you’re in any trouble,” Bobby said.

“I promise.”

“You and Sam are like sons to me,” Bobby said. “I don’t want you two to get hurt.”

“We’ve got Dad,” Dean said.

“Your old man is dangerous. I would’ve made him go away if I could.” A dark look passed over Bobby’s face. Dean didn’t like it one bit. ”But there was nothing left to burn.”

“You don’t have to worry about us, Bobby. We’ll be fine,” Dean said, and pulled away from Bobby’s hug. Dean held Sam’s hand and picked up their duffel bags, and tugged Sam out of the front door to the Impala where John was waiting.

John started the engine of the Impala. When Dean looked out of the rear window, Bobby was staring after them, his eyes shaded under the bill of his baseball cap. For all Dean knew, those eyes could be pitch black like those of demons. It chilled him to the bones.

Dean shrunk down into his seat. He couldn’t wait to get away from the scrapyard. He didn’t like it when people threatened to take his father away.

\- - -

Even when John went off to the deep end in his search for Yellow Eyes and started spending more time away from him and Sam, Dean still believed in his dad.

And John never left them for long.

\- - -

It was a surprise when Cas dropped in on Dean at the bunker.

Seeing Cas back in a trench coat and suit gave Dean a warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Angel was a good look on the dude.

Cas was busy with the angel fractions trying to kill each other, but at least he got his mojo back, so Dean didn’t have to worry about him getting skewered in a back alley somewhere by a junkie desperate for a hit. All Dean had to worry about now was some rogue angels that hated Cas’s guts.

“Sam told me about your hunt in the boys’ home,” Cas said.

“Did you come here just to tell me that? You could’ve called, dude,” Dean said. It was weird to see Sonny again, seeing the man he once knew turning wrinkly and gray now, but it was a good kind of weird. Dean didn’t know many people that he could call friends and were still alive these days.

“Yes,” Cas said, undeterred. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that. It must’ve been difficult.”

“Yeah, it’s real messed up,” Dean said, thinking back to the ghost’s peeling burnt skin. “The kid is gonna need some serious therapy. I can’t imagine what it was like, having the ghost of his dead mom latching onto him like that for so long. I think he will make it though.” He grinned. “He’s a strong one.”

Cas didn’t smile. If anything, his frown deepened and he looked pained. “How do you feel, Dean?”

“I feel fine. Why?”

“Because of your father.”

“Okay, you just lost me,” Dean said. “Why are you bringing up Dad?”

Cas opened his mouth slightly, staying silent for a long beat. He shut it when he realized he was gaping.

“You alright?”

“Do you not know, after all this time?” Cas said.

“Do I not know what?”

Cas gazed at Dean, searching his face for something and Dean didn’t know what it was. Dean felt a spark of irritation. It was like talking to Cas when Cas was an enigmatic asshole. Cas said slowly, “Have you ever read the news on the fire at your childhood home?”

“What kind of question is that?” Dean said. The fire and Mary’s death were a sore spot for Dean. Sam didn’t bring the topic up if he didn’t have to. Hell, they hadn’t had to talk about it ever since they killed Yellow Eyes and lay that ghost to rest.

“Answer me, Dean.”

“No, I’ve never read the papers, okay? I don’t need reminding of the gory details,” Dean said. “And I sure don’t need to see it splashed over newspapers like some sensational headlines.”

Cas wetted his lips. He wasn’t looking at Dean. It never bode well that Cas had that look on his face. “Maybe it’s time you look it up.”

“You could’ve called,” Dean repeated. “Why did you come all the way here?”

“I should go now,” Cas said, avoiding Dean’s gaze.

Because Cas’s wings weren’t fixed after the fall, he left the regular way, using the door and his two legs, but he cleared out of the bunker pretty damn fast. It was like he didn’t want to stay around for long.

Dean scribbled a note for Sam before driving to the nearest library that archived the local newspapers of Lawrence.

Once Dean sat down at a microfilm reader, he found the newspaper issues he wanted quickly, because he had the date of the fire seared into his mind. He printed out every newspaper that covered the fire.

Dean picked up the stack of still warm paper from the printing machine. The fire was not on the front pages; there were freak storms and cattle mutilations that farmers were more worried about. But it didn’t take long for Dean to find the pages on the fire. His mouth was suddenly dry as a desert. He flipped the pages to another newspaper, and another, and another.

They all said the same thing.

Dean’s hands shook. The pages dropped onto the floor.

Two people died in the fire. A married couple.

John and Mary Winchester.


End file.
